Awakenings of Vengeance

The latest writing project of mine. Feel free to praise it or criticize it, but do so with consideration, please. Enjoy.



Prologue


Guttural screams peeled through the crisp, early morning air. Curtis loped his way through the dark blindly, his breath ragged. Partial memories of the last hour flashed through his mind.

The mood change. The brief, violent struggle. The encroaching flames. The dying shrieks. They all formed together to create a hellish scene that he still couldn't quite make sense out of.

He knew that Nathan and Steve were also on the run, and in different directions if they knew what was good for them. Of Paul and Travis, he wasn't quite certain. Likely, one or the both of them were dead.

Dead. Killed by the last of them, Keith. Curtis thrust those half-thoughts out of his mind as he continued to scramble up Zombie Road, hoping that he could make it to his car. They were fools, every single one of them, for even coming out on this blasted attempt at "communing with the spirits".

Curtis ran headlong into solid, unyielding flesh. Knocked to the ground and stunned, he lifted his head to see - no, stare - upon the horrifying visage of what had once been his friend. Blood ran down in rivulets from his stringy, matted hair. Dull, vacant eyes gazed back at him. A raw power emanated from somewhere about him, and it was beyond comprehension.

The figure ripped Curtis's throat out, and he knew no more.



Now


Curtis woke with a start, a sheen of sweat covering his skin. The dream was much like the last one, and the one before that. In fact, the dreams always ended the same.

This time, though, was different. The intensity of the dream was greater. In what way, he could not put a finger on. He just knew. No, knew wasn't precisely the right word. He felt.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, not bothering to look to the side where his wife used to sleep. She wouldn't be there. She hadn't been there for a number of months. His obsession with the events of ten years prior had driven her away.

A glance at the clock told him that it was a quarter to four. With classes scheduled to begin at seven-thirty, he had plenty of time to kill. He wouldn't be going back to bed any time soon, so he headed down to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

The phone rang before Curtis had the chance to pour his first cup.

This had better be good, he grumbled. He had an unlisted number, and for good reason. "Hello?"

"Curtis?" It was a tired voice, one that he had not heard in over a year, but one that he knew well.

"Nathan. I'm not going to bother asking why you're calling so damned early, but it is good to hear from you." Perhaps killing time wouldn't be so much of a hassle, now. It was good to break routine sometimes.

"Well, given the fact that you sound semi-awake, I take it that you've been having the dreams, too."

Curtis sighed yet again. "Yeah, what else. They've been haunting me even more since Laura and I separated."

Nathan cursed. "What? What the hell happened? I thought the two of you were happy and were talking about kids."

"We were," Curtis agreed wistfully. "Since I started teaching anthropology and spirituality classes, she convinced herself that I was taking it too far. She left and moved in with her mother."

"I'm sorry to hear that, man." Nathan paused, not sure what to say.

"You didn't call just now to ask about Laura, or even about those infernal dreams. Now, what is it?"

His old friend hesitated, not sure he wanted to commit to what he was about to say.

"It's gone beyond the dreams, Curtis. A few hours ago, I woke up and fumbled around for my pack of smokes. Couldn't find any. Light bulb was busted, so I had to feel my way down to the basement to where my stash is. I felt for the light switch and turned it on."

Nathan took a deep breath before continuing.

"That mirror that I used to keep leaning against the wall? I saw Keith reflected in it. The Keith that tore our friends to shreds."

Curtis drew in a sharp breath.

"That's right, man. I'm having visions now."

Curtis wasn't quite sure what to think at that revelation. Visions? Alcohol-induced hallucinations, more likely. It was no secret that Nathan had gone to drinking years before, and the admitted fumbling was a good indication that it was still taking place.

Nathan could sense the doubt on his friend's face and was hurt. "Look, Curtis. I know what you're probably thinking. The drunk was seeing things and was just trying to calm his nerves. For Christ's sake, will you listen to what I'm saying?"

Curtis simply held his tongue.

"He was standing there to the side, his head bowed low as if waiting for me to turn around. Scared shitless as I was, of course I did. Only he wasn't there. I turned back to the mirror, but I wasn't expecting what I saw next."

Nathan regained his composure before continuing. "In the mirror, I could see something written on the wall behind me in clumsily scrawled red letters. It read:

THERE IS NO ESCAPE, NATHAN. I AM COMING.

I was freaked out by this point, so I grabbed the mirror and laid it face down on the floor. I went and sobered up-"

Curtis couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Go on."

"Eh, I deserved it, man. Don't worry about it. Anyway, I went and sobered up with a pot of coffee. I returned to the basement a little later. Nothing on the wall. I probably was seeing things. But then I flipped the mirror back over."

Nathan was practically weeping now. "Same goddamned thing, Curtis! The writing on the wall was still there!"



Then


As soon as Bobby pulled out the Ouija board, Curtis groaned. Everyone knew better than to mess with it. He himself had asked the board a question once only to be given an answer that no one else knew, so there was no chance one of the others could have been manipulating it. Someone had speculated that it was his own unconscious thoughts that had allowed him to move the planchette unknowingly. Bullshit.

Not only that, but some bad shit had happened to Bobby and Travis the last time they had messed with it. In fact, they had gone so far as to seek out a priest and consult him for guidance. Talk about them being spooked. Guess they didn't learn their lesson that time, he thought. That time? Who was he kidding? They'd never learn their lesson.

Along with Bobby and Curtis, the basement was also occupied by Steve, Paul, Travis, Keith, and Nathan. It may have been small, but it was as much of a home as any of them had known.

Steve was busy scarfing down a pair of cheese sandwiches while Travis and Paul were going over their latest ideas for a new role-playing game that was "going to take the world by storm". God, it was something new every week, and frankly, they all sucked.

Keith had his eyes glued to the television screen as he tried to outsmart the A.I.-controlled player in some video game. Curtis didn't know which game it was, nor did he care. He was too busy trading barbs with Nathan.

"When are you going to get your lazy ass out of this basement and put it to good use? Go back to school or something." Curtis blew a ring of smoke into the air toward his friend.

Nathan knew the truth of that statement, but he didn't let it bother him. After all, he heard the same thing on an almost daily basis from one or all of them. Either way, even if he wanted to go back to school, it would have been difficult for him to do so given his limited mobility. "You know I can't, Curtis. My legs are too messed up. Why don't you go put that head of yours to better use and learn some decent insults?" Touche.

"What the hell are you doing, Bobby?" Keith asked in disgust, his virtual battle apparently over. "Your addiction to that board of yours is a little ridiculous. If you're going to do it, then do it right."

This ought to be good, Curtis thought. If nothing else, Keith was an extremist. He didn't see things in shades of gray.

"Let's get us some flashlights, fresh batteries, a few candles, and Paul's survival knife." Eyebrows rose at the inclusion of this last item. "Grab that board, and let's head out."

"Hold on a minute!" shouted Nathan. "It's one o'clock in the friggin' morning. Besides, I don't have enough gas right now to get us to wherever you plan on going."

Keith sighed. "C'mon, Nathan. You have something else better to do right now? I'm sure Paul will spot you the cash. Right, Paul?" He looked to his friend expectantly.

"Sure," Paul replied. "I know he's good for it."

"Then it's settled," stated Keith. "Let's get a move on. You in, Curtis?"

Curtis looked at his watch. "I guess. It is getting late, though. I need to be getting back to Columbia before too long. Stop at QuikTrip on the way out to grab a Dew?"

Keith nodded before turning to the others. One by one, they all agreed to go. It was decided that they'd take Nathan's Grand Am and Curtis's Escort as the clutch on Steve's Accord was going out.

"Hey, Keith?" Travis chimed in. "Where are we going?"

"Where else? Zombie Road."

Now


Curtis was stunned. Things like this only happened on The Twilight Zone. "What did you do with the mirror, Nathan? Wait, you do still have it, right?"

"I was about to smash it to pieces, but then I thought that maybe it wasn't just me. I want you to take a look at it and tell me what you see." There was a hint of desperation in Nathan's voice.

Curtis almost turned him down. He had problems of his own. His job as an associate professor was in danger, his perpetual insomnia was affecting his activities of daily living, and then there was Laura. His dear, sweet Laura.

He thought about Laura and realized that she was already lost to him, or was as good as gone. At any rate, things just weren't looking up for him, and he sure as hell didn't want to get involved in the problems of another person, even if that person was an old friend.

But the dreams. The dreams had been coming more frequently, and as of late, they had been intensifying. What if...?

"Give me an hour to get my affairs in order and I'll be over. You still at the same place?"

Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, although I haven't done much with it. Listen, man, I really appreciate this."

"Don't mention it. Now get off the phone before I start having regrets and change my mind." This it it, he thought. Time to face his inner demons. Time to go back to his old home.

* * *

Curtis made the drive in silence. He rarely listened to music anymore as it interfered with his ability to think clearly. His '96 Escort was getting up there in age right along with him, so he tried to give it as much love as he could in the way of focus.

Taking the highway's exit ramp, he looked around him at the greenery. It was rare that he made his way into North County anymore, and rarer still that he visited old friends. He dreaded his impending encounter with Nathan as a patient would a dentist about to give him a root canal.

It wasn't that he didn't like Nathan's company. It was just that over the years he had lost his ability to be comfortable in social situations. He was more at home in front of a computer screen, or even in the classroom teaching. There, it was all business, and he didn't have to pretend to be someone that he wasn't.

Before he knew it, he pulled up alongside Nathan's house. Even without paying attention, his old familiarity with the neighborhood hadn't eluded him. He mustered up his courage then undid his seat beat.

KNOCK KNOCK

After what seemed like an eternity, Curtis could hear the creak of uneven footsteps approaching the door. Guess he never did recover from that skin disorder. Painful and crippling. Curtis shuddered.

The door opened, and Curtis laid eyes on his friend for the first time in years. Time had not been kind to Nathan. He was gaunt and haggard, his hair unkempt and beard a wild tangle. Flashing Curtis a churlish grin, Nathan ushered his friend inside.

In contrast, Curtis was well-groomed and sported a deadpan demeanor. Given the fact that he had lost nearly everything of value to him, there wasn't much to be emotional about. He followed his friend into the depths of the house.

The familiar stench of smoke wafted through the air, and Curtis remembered. This was the place they had all spent most of their waking hours, the place they had let down their guard. Here, he had always been able to be himself. There was no need to put on an act.

A sense of tranquility filled Curtis for a brief moment, but it was enough. He let out a sigh. "It's been too long, Nathan. I'm sorry that I made all those excuses. I should have come earlier."

"You're here now, man, and that's all that matters." Nathan seemed more at ease now, too, than he had on the phone. "Care for a beer or a smoke?"

"Yes to both, although I quit smoking six months ago. I can't keep coping with the stress, and it seems that I need it now more than ever. May as well." He made his way over to the old easy chair as Nathan fetched them both a drink. "Where's that mirror of yours? We should probably go ahead and address that, if nothing else than to just get it out of the way."

"Sitting right next to you."

Curtis nearly jumped out of his skin. Glancing to the side, he saw the mirror abutting the wall, it's back facing him. A chill crept down his spine. It's just a mirror, he told himself. Can't let nursery tales and ghost stories become anything more than what they are.

Nathan handed him a smoke and lit him up. Curtis took a drag and inhaled deeply, the nicotine acting quickly. He tossed down the contents of his beer, and Nathan brought him another. "Thirsty?" he asked, laughing.

"Nah. Just trying to get a grip on the situation. You know me, Mr. Perpetual Stick-in-the-Ass."

Nathan laughed harder. "You haven't changed a bit, my friend."

I wish I could say the same about you, Curtis thought, but held his tongue. Instead, he got down to the matter at hand. "Alright. Let's have a look at this mirror, shall we?"

Nathan flipped the mirror around and angled it the same way in which he had seen the writing on the wall. Sure enough, there were what appeared to be large, red letters painted on the wall. No, not painted, he realized. Oozing from and moving down.

Curtis gulped. "What did it say again?"

"There is no escape, Nathan. I am coming," he quoted. "Or something like that."

"That's not what I see."

"What the...? What do you see?" Panic began to set in again, and Nathan was truly scared this time.

Curtis blanched at what he saw, rubbing his eyes over and over again to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.

YOU, TOO, CURTIS. YOU ARE WITHIN MY GRASP.



Then


Curtis pulled into the school parking lot behind Nathan's Grand Am, making sure to park as far from the street as possible so as to not draw unwanted attention to themselves.

It was eerie walking through the trees with naught but a flashlight lighting their way. About a hundred feet in, they came to an abandoned gravel road that connected to the main road farther back.

"Not used to coming this way in the dark," Nathan pointed out. "You're going to have to slow down."

Keith merely grunted.

"You wanna do this or not?" Bobby asked impatiently.

"Keep in mind this wasn't my idea in the first place," replied Nathan angrily. He fell back as most of the others plowed on ahead.

Curtis stopped in his tracks, waiting for his friend to catch up. "I'm with you, man. It's not like they'll start without us, anyway."

The road curved slightly as the grade of the slope gradually decreased. The farther they traveled, the more they noticed the state of disrepair that the road was in. They walked in silence ever downward.

Curtis thought about the character study that was his companions. Keith, the instigator of this outing, was an enigma. Although he had grown up with Nathan, his motives were perplexing and often remained a mystery. A heavy smoker and suspected drug user, it was the norm for him to rebel against society.

Bobby was good for a laugh or two, but not much else. Sometimes known by his nickname, Scrub, he was socially maladjusted and didn't fit in quite as well with the others. His friendship with Keith was the sole reason that he was tolerated by the rest of them.

Travis, introduced to the others by Curtis, tended to stick with Paul. He was the quiet type and preferred the role of follower. Paul, on the other hand, was outspoken and opinionated. He was the eldest of the group by far by about ten years. He cared enough for his friends that he would frequently "fund" their activities.

Steve played the part of the jester. Annoying at times, it was all good fun according to him. Whenever boredom overcame him, trouble was right around the corner.

"Are we there yet?" Steve chimed in, as if right on cue.

"Does it look like it?" Sarcasm was evident in Keith's tone. "Didn't think so. Now shut your mouth. We still have a ways to go."

My, aren't we a friendly bunch this morning, Curtis thought. This should be loads of fun.

He didn't know it yet, but he would soon be proven wrong. Horribly wrong.

Now


Silence ensued. The two looked at one another, questions unspoken between them. They were afraid at what this new development might signify.

"That...was interesting," Curtis finally managed to say.

"Yeah," Nathan agreed.

"What say we get rid of it before this goes any further." Curtis picked up the mirror and started to head upstairs for the door.

Nathan grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute. Don't you want to see where this is going and what the hell this is all about?"

"Come on, Nathan. Wake up!" Curtis yelled. "You know what it is. You just don't want to see it, to admit it to yourself. Somehow, Keith is back from the grave. He's coming to finish up where he left off nearly ten years ago."

Nathan knew it was true, and he couldn't say otherwise. "And you think that by getting rid of that mirror he'll no longer be a threat? Visions and dreams, Curtis. That's all they are."

"Guess we'll find out, then, won't we?" Curtis grimaced as he yanked his arm away and continued up the stairs.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Hearts rose in both chests.

"You expecting anyone?" Curtis asked without looking away from the door.

"Not that I know of," his friend replied.

"Why do I have the feeling that this is about to get worse?" Curtis stood there immobile, willing his unresponsive legs to move.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"How can the day get any worse, Curtis?"

Seeing that his friend wasn't about to move, Nathan shouldered past him and ambled up the stairs. He paused briefly to take a deep breath before looking through the front door's peephole.

Nathan whistled. "You're not gonna believe who it is, man. It's Steve!" His demeanor instantly turned jovial. "Not sure what brought him here, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"No kidding..." Curtis murmured to himself.

Nathan threw the door open to greet his friend, the second one that day. Steve was a sight to behold. Once tall and muscular, he now stood slightly stooped and walked with a very noticeable limp. Even though it was hot outside, he wore long-sleeved shirts and slacks. No doubt to cover the numerous scars underneath, Nathan thought. He was uniformed as a USPS mailman.

"Didn't think you worked routes this far north".

"Good to see you too, Nate. Right to the point as usual, eh?" Steve chuckled. "Anyway, I'm not covering anyone else's route today. I'm here under stranger circumstances."

"Yeah?" Curtis appeared at the top of the steps. "Aren't we all."

"Wow, Curt. How long has it been? Seven, eight months? Too long, at that." Without waiting to be invited in, Steve headed through the doorway and made his way downstairs, Nathan and Curtis following. Just like old times.

His business momentarily forgotten, Steve attempted to engage his friends in conversation. "So, what are the two of you up to these days? Uncle Sam's been taking care of me, as you can see, but he's been keeping me busy, that's for sure."

"Uh...that's great, Steve. Really, it is." Curtis tried not to appear too disinterested, but failed miserably, his mind preoccupied.

Nathan cleared his throat. "What Curtis means to say is that you've come at an...ah...how do I say it without coming across as an ass? An inopportune moment".

Flashbacks of the past intruded forcibly into his mind: Steve lying there drenched in blood, one leg bent at an unnatural angle beneath him. Was he ready to confront again what had taken so long to recover from?

"He has a right to hear this, Nathan," Curtis interjected. "This involves him, too."

"What involves me?" Steve asked, clearly puzzled. "Now that I think about it, neither of you look well. Something up?"

Without bothering to explain, Curtis thrust the mirror in front of Steve, positioning it in such a fashion that he couldn't fail to notice what he and Nathan had seen before. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Steve looked into the mirror. "Myself. Is there something else that I'm supposed to see?"

Nathan closed his eyes. He had seen it before, and he knew that it was coming on again. Curtis tended to lose his cool rather easily, and as the years crept by, it continued to get worse. Knowing when to take him with a grain of salt was what had kept their friendship intact for so long.

"Don't play me for a fool, Steve! Look at the wall behind you and tell me what you see. Just above your head." Curtis's voice was harsh.

Steve was evidently annoyed, and rightly so. "Look, I'm sure that's probably not how you intended to...you know what? Never mind that. Truth is, I don't see anything, like it or not. What, may I ask, should I be seeing?"

Curtis leaned in toward his friend to get a second look at the mirror. Sure enough, the writing was still there, unchanged. Unchanged, but still oozing, he thought. He gestured for Nathan to take another look as well.

"I see it too, man. But why the hell isn't he seeing it?"



Then


Five candles lay in a circle around them, each one set about ten feet out from the center. They flickered ever so slightly as the group made preparations to communicate with...someone. Or something.

Keith took charge, giving directions to Bobby and Paul. Bobby was to etch lines in the dirt from candle to candle, connecting them in such a way as to form a pentagram. Paul's task was simple: keep his survival knife sheathed and close at hand.

Steve and Nathan were amused, and Travis was unfazed by any of it. It was just another game to him. Curtis, on the other hand, was more than a little uneasy. First of all, what did they need a knife for? They weren't going to sacrifice anything (he didn't think). And the pentagram? He didn't know much about Satanism other that that it conflicted greatly with Christianity. Essentially an upside down star, the three bottom points were a rejection of the holy Trinity.

His friends had humored him more than once, and it was only fair that he did the same for them. Besides, only a few more hours and then he could get back on the road for Columbia.

Keith stood and positioned himself in the center of the makeshift pentagram, his hands spread outward. The Ouija board was nowhere in sight. "Everyone, join hands and form a circle around me. Paul, you keep close. Don't interfere unless you deem it absolutely necessary."

After they formed ranks, Keith began to chant softly, his voice an even monotone. Curtis rolled his eyes. The Keith he knew had pulled their legs more than once with tales of the otherworldly and how he had been possessed before.

Still, it was late, and the darkness added to an already eerie atmosphere.

The tempo suddenly broke into an uneven staccato. Curtis didn't think much of it until Keith lashed out and grabbed both of his arms. What the hell...?

God, he was inhumanly strong. He didn't know how he knew this, and he didn't know how he had mustered the adrenaline to match Keith's strength. Sure enough, his arms were out in front of him as well, grappling his friend for dominance.

The others stared. To them, it was part of the ritual. Hell, Curtis couldn't tell for sure what was and what wasn't supposed to happen. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw Paul hesitate. That hesitation was all it took for Keith to maneuver his way across the ground toward him.

Sensing that something was amiss, Paul unsheathed the knife and began to hand it to Steve, the strongest in the group aside from Keith.

With speed that was born from the same source as his inhuman strength, Keith flung Curtis backward like a rag doll and intercepted Paul's movement, taking the knife up in one of his hands.

Bobby was the closest, and thus was the first to die.

"Get that thing away from him!" Nathan screamed. Shock hadn't quite set in with him as it had with the others, and he was able to seize the moment and tackle Keith to the ground.

Curtis dragged himself to his feet, his head throbbing. He had hit the ground hard, his head having struck a stray stone. He attempted to clear his vision, but the scene in front of him was still hazy.

Paul just stood there, mouth agape in the realization that he had screwed up. Badly.

Travis, meanwhile, went down on one knee to check on Bobby. It was no use, however. There was a deep gash in his throat, and blood pulsed outward with each dying breath.

After witnessing Nathan taking Keith down, Steve's senses kicked in and he dived toward them. Keith rolled to one side and laughed as he elbowed Steve in the nose, causing blood to spurt everywhere. "Had no idea what you were messin' with, and look what it got ya!" Nathan took a steel-toed boot to the jaw and fell, stunned.

Keith stood, his muscles relaxed. The others slowly gave way. They didn't know what to make of the dangerous "entity" in front of them, and they certainly didn't want to be its next target. He paced in an outward spiral, facing each of them in turn.

"You know not what you have awakened, fools. Your friend was the weak-minded catalyst that allowed me to come forth from my imprisonment. Your other friend..." He paused, gesturing to the now pale Bobby desperately gasping for breath. "Your other friend was the sacrifice that cemented my hold to this plane. Congratulate yourselves and give one another a pat on the back."

WHAM! A solid branch of wood connected squarely to the back of Keith's head, Curtis providing the impetus behind it. "Take that, you sonuvabitch!"

Keith didn't go down, not by a long shot.

Barely fazed by the blow, he spun around and darted away. Without hesitation, Curtis swung the wood back for another blow. Wielding it like a baseball bat, he aimed for the ribs in Keith's chest. Again, the speed demonstrated by the entity was inhuman. Again, one of them went down.

Keith ducked and took perverse satisfaction in watching Curtis bludgeon Paul's head to a pulp.

"Two down!" he cackled. "How many more to go?"

Whoa didn't see this before. Nice story Wild. This is a really good read. Can't wait till you post the next part. And I seen one error:

He was the eldest of the group by far by about ten years.

I don't know, it might just be me, but it shouldn't it be either by far, or by about ten years. It seem weird that they are both together, and joined by "by". It would make sense to just put one or the other, or say "he was the oldest by far, about ten years."

Then (cont.)

Horrified at what he had inadvertently done, Curtis dropped the wood and ran. He was no coward, but he knew that he couldn't stand up to the thing that Keith had become. "Get your asses out of here!" He didn't look behind him to see if any of his friends followed. The heavy tread of boots was indication enough.

Travis was not fortunate enough to have been gifted with grace. His clumsy gait caused him to trip not fifty yards from where the first killings had taken place.

Keith was on him in a matter of seconds, ripping the shirt and the flesh underneath from his torso. Travis's wails echoed through the trees as the others escaped.

Curtis met up with Nathan near the bottom of the abandoned road. Steve was nowhere in sight. Words weren't enough to describe their thoughts, so they saved their breath. Upward toward the school they went.

It was only a matter of time before one of them stumbled during their breakneck pace. Nathan paused to help Curtis up. "Don't you think we should try to locate Steve? There's got to be strength in numbers, and he's in just as much need of help as we are."

Curtis nodded his head. "You're right, but where do we look?"

His question was answered in the form of a howl followed by a string of curses.

"That way, toward the cliff." Nathan pointed off toward their right. There was a overhang not too distant that Curtis had found with Steve one morning on one of their hikes. It was about seventy-five feet from top to bottom, and the slope was sheer. It made for a challenging climb.

A short while later, the two emerged into a small clearing at the head of the cliff. Steve had his back to the edge, and Keith was only a couple of feet away. Keith had changed, somehow. He was more stooped, and his hands...his hands were now clawed. Those claws had been put to good use, too. Numerous slashes now marked Steve's clothing, and he was quickly succumbing to lack of blood.

Nathan stepped on a twig as he approached the pair. Keith whirled at the sound, and the moonlight caught his features in all their deadly splendor. Eyes were glazed over, spittle dangled from his chin, and muscles were taut. "You should've ran when you had the chance. Now you will die...right after your friend!"

Keith spun back around and jumped toward Steve, taking them both right off the top.

Curtis and Nathan rushed to the edge and watched helplessly as their friends tumbled down the side of the cliff. Halfway down, Steve struck an outcropping. His leg bent back at an unnatural angle and snapped. They hit the bottom and lay still.

Curtis didn't dare breathe. He watched for signs of movement. Sure enough, one of the figures stirred. After checking its surroundings, it let off a howl and loped away. The other figure didn't move.